


The Governess

by Megara Bee (Megara_Bee)



Series: Rumbelle Showdown 2016 [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gothic, Rumbelle Showdown 2016, jane eyre au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6498241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megara_Bee/pseuds/Megara%20Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Rumbelle Showdown under the name "Ms. Honey". This was my round 4 entry. Prompts were: Snow in the darkness, “Good news, everyone!”, Secrets in the attic. </p>
<p>Belle French works as governess for the reclusive Mr. Gold, but there is something not quite right about Thornfield Manor...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Governess

There was thumping in the attic that night.

There was thumping in the attic every night, but combined with the cold and the stress of the day’s events, Belle found herself tossing and turning most fretfully.

She heaved a sigh and drew back the covers, grabbed a blanket to sling around her shoulders, and padded clumsily over to the window. She perched on the sill, her eyes glued to the falling snow. There was a majesty in the flakes, in their purity, in the way they coated everything they touched like a cold, gentle kiss.

This morning had started like any else: as she was escorting Master Baelfire to breakfast, they had run into his father. Mr. Gold, the owner of Thornfield estate and Belle’s employer, struck a very imposing figure -- right up until his son started shouting, “Papa! Papa!”

Then the façade crumbled.

“Hey, my boy!”

“Can we go riding today? You promised me we’d go riding!”

“I’m afraid not, son. I’m being ambushed into holding a soiree for the Mills family.”

“A soiree? Like a party? Can I come?”

“I don’t think you’d enjoy it. Miss French-”

“Yes sir?”

“Please take him to breakfast. I need to be going.”

“Yes sir.”

“…Awfully quiet this morning, Miss French.”

“I was recently told I talk too much, sir. I must accept constructive criticism.”

 “I apologize for wounding your pride, Miss French.”

“Come on, Master Baelfire,” Belle said, ushering her charge towards the dining room. She was stopped by a hand at her elbow.

His eyes searched hers, and she was struck by their caramel color. “I am sorry, Belle.”

Indignation still simmered in her chest and it burned through her tenderness. “Have a nice day, Master Gold.” She didn’t need to tug her elbow free -- he released her.

Baelfire couldn’t sit still during his French lesson that afternoon. His nose was pressed to the frosted glass, watching the carriages pull through the gate.

“There’s Aunty Nim! Can I go say hi?”

“No, Baelfire, that’s not a good idea.”

Belle watched his eyes, a smaller version of his father’s, dart between her and the door. She watched the mischievous glint turn into dedication, and just a moment later she watched him take off. Belle tripped over herself trying to catch him, but it was too late; she was still grabbing at her petticoats on the staircase as he heaved open the door to the parlor.

“Aunty Nim!”

“Baelfire! Good news, everyone! The star of the party is here!”

“It’s not my party, Aunty Nim.”

“Well then, it should be.”

It was then that Belle stumbled into the room, panting. She found her employer’s face right away, saw the displeasure etched there.

“Baelfire, have you run from your governess?” Madame Nimue asked.

“I’m so sorry Ma’am… Sir.”

“I don’t recall inviting the servants to my party,” came a low, purring voice from behind her. Belle dropped into a hasty curtsy at the sight of Regina Mills. The woman was clad in glittering black, her garment far richer than anything else in the room. She was flanked by her mother, an infamously cruel woman decked in scarlet, and her elder sister, an infamously… interesting woman in green.

“I’m sorry, Madame Mills. I’ll be gone in just a moment.”

“Make sure you hurry, dear. The room is beginning to stink of your poverty.”

Belle bit her lip, hurrying over to collect her charge.

“Do you cook, girl?”

“I beg your pardon, ma’am?” Belle said, taking Baelfire from his favorite aunt and turning to the woman in red.

“Do you cook, or clean, or garden?”

“No ma’am.”

“So you were hired for a single occupation, and you’ve already failed.”

“Don’t be silly, mother. Obviously she was hired for her looks.” This was the one in green, who had more malice in her tone than was strictly called for.

The women’s laughter was cut short by Gold himself. “That’s enough!” He stepped forward, placing a hand on Belle’s shoulder. A soft gasp rippled around the room.

“The only thing that stinks here, Regina, is the way you flaunt your wealth. Cora, you’ve never held a job in your life so tell me, who are you to comment on how one should be performed? And Zelena, Dearie, you’ll never get your hooks in me so you might as well stop being so jealous. Green really isn’t your color. Come along, Belle,” he said, guiding her from the room. “It wasn’t my idea to throw this party in the first place, I see no reason I should be in attendance.”

There was a stupor about her as his hand on her back guided her to the schoolroom. When they finally arrived, Gold removed his hand, and Belle felt as though she could breathe again.

“I’m sorry, Miss Fren-”

“How could you?”

Gold drew back. “I… What?”

“How could you embarrass me like that? You’ve just snubbed three of the most powerful women in the county, and this will doubtless affect your business and your reputation and your place in local politics! You have a son to think about, Mr. Gold.”

“Excuse me?... Do you want me to apologize for trying to protect you?”

“Did it ever occur to you that I might not need protecting?”

Gold turned away, gripping the handle of his cane. Suddenly he turned back, as though to say something important, but the words stuck in his throat. He simply sighed, turned, and left the room.

As the door shut, Belle let her head drop into her hands. After a moment she felt a tug on her skirt.

“Belle… is Papa mad because I went to the party?”

“No, sweetheart,” she said, bending down to brush back his mop of curls. “Of course not. He loves you more than anything in the world. He’s mad at me, I’m afraid. But no matter,” she said, forcing a smile. “We were learning French, and I think we better get back to it..…”

A knock on her door brought the chilly governess back to reality. No, the day had not been worse than any other… But apparently it wasn’t over yet.

She padded over to the door and twisted the key. He was leaning against the doorframe. His hair was falling into his face, but there was no mistaking the haggardness of his features. She was not the only sleepless person in the manor tonight.

“Belle.”

“Master Gold.”

“Don’t do that, please.”

She sighed, stepping back to let him in.

“You look frozen, dear.”

“I’m watching the snow,” she said, returning to her seat at the window.

“You’ll catch your death.” Gold removed his dressing gown and draped it around her shoulders over the blanket.

“Thank you.”

He sat down in front of her, closer than their positions in life allowed. Her eyes stayed glued to the window.

“There’s something different about the snow here,” she said, pulling her layers tighter. “Back home a good snow would make the world look like a fairy garden, but here… Here it just brings out the darkness.”

“Oh Belle,” he sighed, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re like the snow. So pure, so bright… You’ve brought light to my life. I would condemn all the nobility from here to the Queen if it meant I could keep you.”

“Keep me?”

“Yes.”

“Keep me where, sir? In your manor? Your arms? Your bed? In a cage?”

“Belle-”

“No! I am not some trembling wren, Mr. Gold. I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will. I wish you could see that.”

“I do, Belle. It’s your very spirit that has so enslaved me! I did not hire you with any such intentions, but after watching you with Baelfire… How could I not fall in love? How could I resist your grace and your candor, your sense and your kindness? I adore you, Belle; I wish _you_ would believe _that_.”

Belle looked at him as though for the first time. He was studying her, his face just inches away. She found that her eyes were drawn to his lips. He was warm, and close, and slowly they were drawn together. Just as she could feel his breath on her chin, her nose pressed to his nose, everything changed.

A scream pierced the air, chilling Belle to her very core. It was agony and pain and rage all bottled together, it was a lifetime of misery and shackles; it was the very definition of haunting.

It came from the attic.  

**Author's Note:**

> I am still in awe that I made it to Round 4!!! Thanks to everyone who voted for me and stroked my sizable ego.


End file.
